


It's Not Playing House If We Live Together

by EverydayGeek



Series: Playing House [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverydayGeek/pseuds/EverydayGeek
Summary: "If you'd told Shaw eight months ago that she'd be sleeping beside Root every night, she would have punched you in the face."orRoot and Shaw are living together and exploring their new dynamic, yet neither of them are brave enough to label their relationship. Continuation of Playing House.
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: Playing House [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/464509
Comments: 18
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read "Playing House", then this is a short continuation of it to explore Root and Shaw's new dynamic. If you haven't read it and you click on this, you will be very confused. I recommend that you read "Playing House" and it's one chapter prequel "The Beginning of the End" before reading this one. Enjoy!

If you'd told Shaw eight months ago that she'd be sleeping beside Root every night, she would have punched you in the face. If you'd told Shaw that she would be cohabitating with Root under the same roof - _her_ roof, of all places - she would have stabbed you in the thigh and left the knife buried deep inside your flesh, serving as a constant reminder of your idiocy. When Shaw vowed to turn up the volume on her emotions, she hadn't known this would be the result.

Regardless of their separate missions and the long hours that went into keeping their numbers safe, they always came home and slipped into bed together, often laying beside one another without moving or speaking or touching. It didn't matter if they came in at 2 AM or 2 PM, they would still make time to lie together, if even just for a few fleeting moments. This had become something unspoken between them, and neither woman voiced their thoughts on the near-daily routine.

Because what would happen if it had suddenly stopped?

Shaw knew exactly what this was, what they _were_ , but her stubborn brain refused to call it by its name. To Root's credit, she'd kept her teasing to a minimum, not laying it on as thick as she had during their mission marriage. Root was an unbearable asshole sixty percent of the time, but she knew when to push, when to back down and when to give Shaw her space. Their current dynamic was completely new, but not at all unwelcomed. Shaw would never admit this out loud but - aside from a few hiccups here and there and the constant reminder that Samaritan was lurking in the shadows, waiting to wipe them out, - this was the most content she'd felt in a long time.

At least, that was how she'd felt before Root and her mom exchanged burner phone phone numbers and took it upon themselves to text each other throughout the week. Shaw's mom was the only person she'd disclosed details about her relationship to, and to say her mom was delighted was an understatement. For some strange reason, her mother adored Root. While her mother wasn't aware of everything Root had done in the past, she definitely knew Root was no angel, and that only seemed to draw her further onto Team Root. Her mother had witnessed many of their interactions through the phone and, one day, when Root had successfully silenced Shaw during one of their minor arguments, Shaw's mother had told her amusedly, "Sameen, I think you've _truly_ met your match."

If that wasn't bad enough, then John and Lionel noticing the shift in their dynamic was the shit icing on the dog shit cake. They had become unbearable to be around, more so than usual. If they'd ever caught wind of the fact that Root and Shaw also kind of lived together, she'd never hear the end of it.

Now that Shaw thought about it, maybe she'd jumped the gun by saying she was 'content'.

* * *

"Yo, lady, who are you and who was that person trying to kill me?"

Meet Willy Wilson, a thirty-year old dj from Brooklyn with both a gambling addiction and a dating site addiction. According to his file, he was a serial mongamer who had been engaged ten times within the past five years. Unbeknownst to him, three of his former fiancées had banned together to take him out. How he had managed to pull not one, but ten fiancées and have them care enough about him to want to take him out years later, was mind blowing to Shaw. The dude was no Casanova, and his personality, or what she'd seen of it so far, was far from likeable. What was it about him that made women plan to spend the rest of their lives with him?

"I'm the lady that just saved your ass," Shaw retorted. "And those _women_ trying to kill you are your ex-fiancées, who you've managed to leave a lasting negative impression on from the looks of it."

Willy paled and immediately sat down on the nearest surface. His chosen seat? The windowsill facing the busiest street.

"Assuming your exes are desperate to get rid of you, I would probably stay away from the windows if I were you," Shaw advised, her tone derisive.

Willy quickly stood up to his full height and turned to shakily close the window curtains. He, then, started pacing back and forth. Shaw did her best to hide her annoyance.

She was not successful, but he hadn't noticed.

"What am I going to do? What do they want from me? Do you know which of my exes are involved?"

Shaw shrugged. "Do the names Caroline Stewart, Rosa Martinez and Lynn Shelly ring a bell?"

Willy stopped pacing and his eyes widened in surprise. "W-why would they want to kill me? I had a great relationship with all three of them."

"Key word: _had_. Try telling that to the women who planted a bomb in your car."

Willy's brow furrowed in confusion and Shaw could see the gears turning in his head as he tried recalling every bad thing he'd ever done in his life. Shaw had a feeling they'd be there for a while.

Walking to the furthest corner of the living room - in one their newest safehouses since the last location had been compromised - Shaw clicked on her communication line.

"Our number is safe, secure and a moron," she said quietly, watching the topic of conversation collapse onto the couch, back first, releasing a frustrated groan as he massaged his temples with his fingertips.

"Why do I always fall for crazy chicks?" he moaned to no one in particular.

" _Be nice, sweetie. He's having a rough day,"_ came Root's saccharinely sweet voice.

"Where's Harold?" inquired Shaw.

" _He's assisting the big lug with a new number. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for now."_

Shaw could hear the smile in her voice and the teasing in her tone. She was enjoying this. Catching Shaw by surprise seemed to be one of Root's favorite pastimes.

" _Willy Wilson, thirty, a club dj, engaged ten times in the last five years and has three exes trying to kill him. 50 bucks says he's the real perp,"_ Root wagered.

Shaw looked at the pathetic man repeatedly singing the lines, _"you had my heart inside of your hand and you played it to the beat"_ from Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" under his breath and scoffed at the absurdity.

"You're on. Also, don't you have a number of your own to be babysitting?"

" _She's in protective custody. Lionel has her at the station."_

"So, you just decided to come and annoy me in the meantime?"

"Who are you talking to?" came the man's whiny voice.

"Have you figured out why your exes might want to harm you?" Shaw deflected.

" _That was smooth," said Root with a chuckle,_

"Not really. I mean, aside from the time I got a credit card under Caroline's name to buy an engagement ring for Rosa." he paused, his expression becoming one of realization. "...and borrowed money from Rosa to help pay off a car loan that I took out under Lynn's name… oh. This is bad."

" _Looks like it's a draw, sweetie. How about we split the winnings and splurge on dinner?"_

Shaw ignored the woman and clicked off her line, staring at the man sprawled on the couch in disbelief.

Moron was an understatement.

* * *

Root had failed to mention that her number was Lynn Shelley, who was also being targeted by Rosa and Caroline. As it turned out, Lynn was secretly dating Willy again and the two of them had been working together to take down Rosa and Caroline. Rosa and Caroline had become aware of the traitor in their midst and began plotting a double homicide, choosing to go after Willy first. Their plan had been to take both of them out and then frame Willy for Lynn’s murder. Earlier that day, they had managed to withdraw most of Billy's savings with the help of Lynn, who had given them his bank information to forego suspicion. Their plan was sloppy, not well-planned and, no matter how you spun it, it wouldn't have worked in their favor.

But they were committed. 

The cause of it all? Willy had put Rosa in over 100,000 dollars' worth of debt and Caroline in over 300,000 dollars' worth of debt. Rosa was a kindergarten teacher in Manhattan, while Caroline was a single mother of a two-year old; she held down two jobs and neither paid enough to keep her afloat. Rosa and Caroline's credit were permanently ruined, and Willy hadn't owned up to his wrongdoings, choosing to let them be drowned in a debt they hadn't acquired themselves. And Lynn? It turned out that Willy had paid off Lynn's debt by using the money he'd stolen from the other two women.

Shaw was happy to see him put away for several counts of credit card fraud. She felt bad that Caroline and Rosa had resorted to attempted murder as a means to an end, but they'd been caught and there was nothing she could do to help them; they'd chosen their own path. 

And now Shaw was exhausted and ready to pass out. 

When Shaw walked into her apartment that night, she immediately noticed Root, who was fast asleep on the couch. Shaw dropped her bag by the door and took off her shoes, quietly padding her way into the living room with sock-covered feet. She stopped in front of the couch and reached out to touch Root's shoulder, gently shaking her.

Root's eyes slowly opened, and she sleepily squinted at Shaw.

"What time is it?" Root whispered, a yawn following the question.

"Just past 3 AM. You should move to the bedroom," Shaw replied, her voice slightly above a whisper.

A playful smile crossed Root's face and Shaw knew what was coming before she'd even said opened her mouth.

"Can you carry me, wifey?"

Shaw rolled her eyes to the ceiling, summoning the strength to stay calm. She looked back to Root and noticed her eyes looked far more alert and were practically shining.

"You have two working legs, walk to the room yourself," she said gruffly.

Root sleepily smiled and shrugged. "It was worth a shot. Help me, then."

Root held out her hand and Shaw reluctantly took it, pulling the other woman up to a standing position. Root tightened her grip on Shaw's hand and leaned forward to press a kiss to Shaw's scrunched up forehead.

Root pulled back slightly and scrunched up her nose. "You smell like nitroglycerin and sweat. Take a shower before you come to bed, I just washed those sheets."

Root dropped her hand and sleepily swayed to the bedroom, leaving behind an affronted Shaw. Shaw pulled her shirt collar to her nose and took a sniff, frowning at the smell.

Wordlessly, she made her way to the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello? Oh, Amaya, it's great to hear from you. How are you? That's great to hear. And how are Josh and Daniela?"

Shaw groaned and pulled the corners of her pillow over her ears to block out the phone conversation happening beside her. She was still in bed, exhausted from the night before and all she wanted to do was be dead to the world for another two hours.

A soft hand grabbed at Shaw's tensed left hand and pulled it away from where she had been grasping the pillow. Shaw tried to pull her hand away, but the soft hand threaded their fingers together and held on tightly. The pad of Root's thumb gently stroked the back of her hand and she tried to pull away once more, but Root held on tightly and refused to budge.

Shaw groaned and pulled the blanket over her head with her free hand instead, her left hand still tightly grasped in Root's as the phone conversation continued without pause.

"She's awake, she's just being grumpy," Shaw heard the amused voice next to her say. "Oh, please do. I would love to know what an elementary-aged Sameen was like."

Shaw groaned again, this time louder in volume.

Root laughed softly and Shaw could hear her mom's bark of laughter through the phone. She must've heard her.

"Maybe we can save the elementary Sameen stories for another time. Preferably when she isn't here to interrupt," Root laughed. "I'll tell her you said so. Bye."

Shaw heard Root place her phone on _her_ bedside table – because when Root had unofficially moved in, she felt the room seemed empty without a bedside table on both sides of the bed – and leaned over to pull the covers off Shaw's face. Shaw squinted up at Root with all the disgruntlement she could muster, but to no avail. Root was unaffected and annoyingly amused by her antics.

"Your mom says to call her when you're free and to stop being grumpy."

"You are the bane of my existence right now," Shaw grunted out, successfully yanking her hand out of Root's.

Root smiled. "As long as it's just for right now, then I'm completely fine with that, wifey."

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned her back to Root, snuggling into her pillow once again.

"I'm going back to sleep. Don't wake me up unless we have a new number."

Shaw fully intended to fall back asleep, but Root had other ideas. Shaw's body stiffened at the feeling of Root's arm snaking its way over her torso, her front melding into Shaw's back, and the tip of her nose tracing small circles over the side of Shaw's exposed neck. Shaw let out a defeated sigh.

 _Snuggling_.

Snuggling was a new addition to their rapidly changing dynamic, and Shaw was still trying to get used to it. Root kept the snuggling to a minimum, and while she tried not to blindside Shaw with it, at times like this, when Shaw was grumpy, sleepy and in no mood to talk, Root took it upon herself to be the beaming ray of annoyance that Shaw didn't have the energy to fight off. Shaw was sure snuggling had a calming effect on most people, but it only served to deepen her irritation.

" _G_ et off," Shaw growled.

Her tone of voice and lack of action were completely contradictory, however. She made no move to remove Root's hand from her torso, nor did she address the fact that her own hand had subconsciously moved to cover Root's. Root placed a quick kiss to the side of Shaw's neck and removed her arm, rolling over to her side of the bed without fuss.

"Fine," Root sighed, her tone playful. "I'll let you sleep, but when you wake up, let's go out for breakfast. I'm craving bacon."

Shaw's eyes narrowed at that and she found herself rolling over to look at Root with incredulous eyes.

"You don't even like bacon."

"I do."

"Since when?"

"Since I started living with a person that likes bacon."

"That's bullshit."

"No, you just don't pay attention," Root countered, concluding their talk by rising out of bed and making her way toward the bathroom.

Shaw watched her go with eyes narrowed in suspicion. She knew Root, _too_ well, and she was up to something.

* * *

Shaw had been correct in her assumption.

Three hours later, after Shaw had gotten an adequate amount of sleep, Root took her to a family diner in downtown Manhattan. The establishment was small, mostly empty, and run by two grandparents, with their teenage granddaughter working as the hostess and their two, twenty-something year old grandsons working as the waitstaff.

Once Root and Shaw were sat in the standard red and white diner booth settled near the back of the diner, Root picked up the menu on the table and began perusing the front page.

"The blueberry pancakes look good," Root said from behind the menu. "What do you want?"

Shaw looked at Root's menu-covered face in disbelief. "I thought you were here for the bacon."

Root lowered the menu, then, and smirked at Shaw. "Oh, Sameen, you know I don't like bacon."

Shaw scoffed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, before settling her attention back on Root. "Who's our number?"

Root's smirk deepened as she closed the menu and placed it back on the table. Root turned toward the young waiter serving a table at the other side of the diner. Shaw followed the direction of Root's gaze and studied the man. He was tall, muscular, with black hair pulled back into a ponytail that rested just above his shoulder.

"His name is Paul Martino. He's 23 and he's an art history major at NYU. He's a straight A student, with a 3.9 GPA and is part of the Pi Delta Psi fraternity. His record is squeaky clean, not even so much as a middle school detention. His number came up during our snuggle session."

Shaw's attention snapped back to Root at the mention of the morning cuddle nightmare and the mirth twinkling in Root's eyes had her fists clenching. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Shaw relaxed her fists and settled for simply glaring.

Root's bit back a laugh and turned her attention back to their number, who was now approaching them with a pencil and notepad in hand.

"Are you both ready to order?" Paul asked, his pencil and notepad at the ready.

"Yes, I'll have the blueberry stack and she- "Root pointed to Shaw, "will have the sausage, bacon and egg platter. Also, can we get two cups of coffee?"

Ordering food for each other; this was another new part of their dynamic that still took some getting used to. As Paul wrote down their order, Shaw resisted the urge to look at Root. She could feel the heat of the other woman's gaze on her, and she knew the expression she saw would either be worried or smug. Neither was one she was prepared to handle, so she kept her attention focused elsewhere. Currently, she found the black and white checkered flooring interesting.

"Alright, let me go get your coffees and put this order in," he told them, making his way around the counter and handing the slip of notepad paper to the hand sticking out through the little kitchen window.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," came Root's apologetic voice.

Shaw slowly rose her gaze to meet Root's and she was immediately greeted with worried eyes. In this moment, she would rather have faced an obnoxiously smug Root.

Openness was another new dynamic in their thing she refused to label. Like everything else, it still took some getting used to.

"It's fine," Shaw rushed out, quietly.

Before Root could reply, Paul returned with their coffees and told them their food would be out in a few minutes. The two quietly thanked him and once he was out of earshot, Shaw spoke again.

"I'm just…getting used to this," Shaw said slowly.

Root nodded. "I know. Your grumpy face makes my day, Sameen, but I don't mean to overstep and cause you discomfort, too. Only mild annoyance."

Shaw snorted at the ridiculousness of Root's quasi-apology and left it that. Root smiled at her and looked down shyly, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Next time you overstep, I'll just punch you in the face or something," Shaw offered, _mostly_ playful.

She picked up her mug to take a sip of her steaming coffee when Root replied.

"Well, that's not the type of fisting I was hoping for, but deal."

Shaw choked on the hot coffee and spit it back into the cup. Over the rim of her cup, Shaw spotted the obnoxiously smug grin she had hoped for just moments prior. She regretted that wish.

Just as Shaw placed her cup back on the table, Paul returned to the table, two plates in hand. He placed their orders in front of them, told them to enjoy and made his way to his next table. Two male customers walked in at that moment and Shaw noticed their attention turn to Paul right upon entrance. The hostess welcomed them, to which they ignored, and made their way to an empty table near the door. The hostess rolled her eyes at the rude men and went back to texting on her phone, furiously tapping away, most likely complaining about them to whoever she was talking to.

They were both tall, lanky, and dressed in similar attire. Both were wearing button down white shirts, black slacks, and black dress shoes. The man on the right had gelled back blonde hair and the man on the left had unruly dark curls that stuck out in every direction. They looked to be in their early 20s.

Shaw studied the men and the way their attention rarely left their number.

"Those two men sure have an interest in our guy," Shaw said quietly, just loud enough for Root to hear.

Root discreetly turned her head to glance at the two men, before quickly turning back to Shaw.

"I've seen those men before," Root informed her. "I saw them sitting on the bench across the street on the walk here."

Shaw took out her phone, raised it up slightly, zoomed in on the two men and snapped a picture of their side profiles when they'd both turned to look toward the counter as their number passed by. She sent the picture to Harold and turned on her comm.

"Harold, I'm sending you a picture of two possible perps. See if you can get a hit on them."

" _Hello, to you, too, Miss Shaw,"_ said Harold in a dry tone _._ Shaw rolled her eyes at his response and waited. _"Their names are Douglas Romero and Mason Nunez, they're both art history majors at NYU. They're also pastry chefs at The Cupcake Palace down the street from where Mr. Martino works."_

It was at that moment that their number walked up to the two men's table with a big, toothy grin and a friendly 'hello'. Paul grabbed the hand of the curly-haired man and the curly-haired man brought their joined hands to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to the back of Paul's hand.

Paul, who had made no move to take back his hand, joked, "Yo, I'm at work, bro. Save the kisses for later."

"Promise?" the curly-haired man replied, a flirty smile on his face.

"Cute couple," Root joked.

Shaw studied the blonde with the gelled back hair and noticed the _hard_ roll of his eyes. There was disdain in his expression and, from the looks of it, he was not a fan of their number.

Shaw spoke into her comm. "Harold, what's the name of the blonde guy?"

Harold replied quickly, _"Douglas Romero. He moved to New York five years ago from Alabama for school. He's had several part-time jobs within that five-year timeframe but was described as an exemplary employee by each establishment. He has no record."_

Shaw continued studying the man, whose disdain and annoyance at being caught between the two lovers had only increased with every passing second.

"What are you thinking?" Root asked.

"Douglas is definitely not a fan of our guy," Shaw noted.

" _Tonight, I would like Miss Shaw and Mr. Reese to stake out Mr. Martino's apartment; keep an eye out for any suspicious individuals who may be loitering around his home. Root, I would like you to keep an eye on Douglas Romero and Mr. Nunez and make sure they are not a threat to Mr. Martino's safety. I expect to hear from you both later, while you are carrying out your assignments. Enjoy the rest of your day."_

"I guess we have our assignments," Root said, disappointment evident in her voice. "Let's eat and then head out so you can discuss a game plan with the big lug."

Shaw watched Root carefully and noticed how the other woman was avoiding her eyes.

"What's up?" Shaw asked, noticing the change in Root's demeanor.

"Harold knows the full extent of _our_ …" she trailed off there, gesturing with her hands between her and Shaw.

Shaw's eyes widened at that. "You mean, he knows we're living together, too?"

Root nodded, her eyes suddenly finding her cold, untouched pancakes interesting. "He figured it out a few weeks ago. Since then, he's been hesitant about letting us work a number together."

"So, he thought it was a good idea to have us pretend to be married and live together under the same roof for months, but now that we actually live together, it's a problem?"

"Well, about that..." Root started, clearing her throat, and raising her eyes to meet Shaw's. "I was the one that suggested it. He originally wanted to pair you with bootleg batman for that mission."

Shaw closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Root…"

"As if anyone would buy you and John as a couple," she defended. "It's not like Harold hadn't known we were involved before then."

Having no response to that, Shaw picked up the napkin covered utensils next to her plate, unwrapped it and took out the fork, stabbing at her the cold sausage on her plate. Root smirked in triumph and did the same, digging into her own cold meal.

The two ate in silence for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

Later that night, Shaw and John sat together in one of Harold's black sedans, parked across the street from Paul's apartment building. The two sat side-by-side in the front and passenger seat, respectively, sipping at their coffees as they surveilled the surrounding area. The area was much quieter than Shaw had expected it to be, considering most of the building's tenants were college students. Many students walked past, with their backpacks and laptop bags swung over their shoulders, looking exhausted and ready to pass out for the night. Other students looked to have no care in the world, meeting up with friends at the front of the building and heading to the nearest restaurant for a late dinner.

So far, there had been no sign of Paul, his possible boyfriend or the guy that obviously hated him.

John and Shaw had already been sitting in the car for the last two hours. It was 10:15 PM, and Shaw had a feeling it would be a slow and uneventful night.

"So…" John started. John starting small talk was never a good thing. "You and Root, huh?"

She sighed. "What about us?"

John grinned. "Us?" he teased. Shaw put her coffee cup in the cup holder and punched him in the arm. John raised his arms in surrender. "I think it's great."

"Fuck off, John," Shaw grunted.

"Why wasn't I invited to the housewarming party?"

"John, I swear…" Shaw threatened, her trigger finger suddenly itching.

"Is my wedding invitation going to come in the mail or are you personally handing me the invitation?"

Shaw closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten in her head. She would get through this stakeout without 'accidentally' harming John. She just had to believe.

"Will I be the best man, or will Lionel?"

Shaw opened her eyes and felt her fist clench. Her fist raised and swung of its own volition. The satisfaction she had felt when her fist sloppily connected with John's jaw came with a sense of relief. The tension in her body had melted away. The look of surprise that crossed his face was well worth the punch, and it was safe to say that he had looked properly chastised.

"I deserved that," he conceded, rubbing at his jaw.

Shaw rolled her eyes and focused her attention on the apartment building entrance. The two descended into silence and continued surveilling the area. When a few minutes passed without any passersby, Shaw reached for her coffee and took a small sip.

"To be clear, that punch meant that Lionel was your second choice, right?" John teased, breaking the peaceful silence.

Her jaw clenched, her fists balled, and her eyes closed tightly. She began counting to one thousand.


	3. Chapter 3

Over six hours had passed and there had been no sign of their number. Their stakeout was proving to be a bust and there was only so much of John's terrible jokes that Shaw could take. Looking at the man beside her and the various scratches and bruises starting to form on his skin caused a sense of pride to blossom in her chest. John looked miserable, wincing every so often - often exaggerating his pain when he made eye contact with her, to which she responded with an eye roll - and rubbed at his sore jaw.

"Big baby," Shaw teased.

John grunted in lieu of reply and continued massaging his jaw.

Shaw looked at the dashboard clock, which read 4 AM, then at the empty apartment entrance and said, "Let's call it a night. He obviously isn't here or planning to show anytime soon."

John yawned, wincing at the pain in his jaw, and grunted in agreement. He turned on his comm. and said, "Hey, Finch, Shaw and I are calling it a night. There's been no sign of our number."

" _Very well, then. Go home and get some rest. We will resume our mission at 0800 hours, just in time for the start of Mr. Martino's shift at the diner. Detective Fusco will be at the NYU campus keeping an eye on him during his morning classes."_

"Got it," John responded to the man before clicking off his comm. John turned the key in the ignition and placed his hand on the gear. Before putting the car in drive, he turned to Shaw and bravely teased, "Ready to go home to wifey?"

Before she could make a move to punch him, John put the car in drive, pulled out of their parking spot and quickly peeled down the road. Shaw balled her fists and placed them in her lap.

She had never hated anyone more than she hated John in that moment.

* * *

After a long and grueling night filled with teasing, punching and John's terrible jokes, Shaw was grateful to finally be clean, changed into comfortable clothing and in her bed. When she'd gotten home, she was surprised to see Root already there, fast asleep and halfway onto Shaw's side of the bed. Shaw gently moved Root over to her own side of the bed when she went to lay down, but the taller woman's limbs found their way back to Shaw's side once Shaw was settled beside her.

Shaw grabbed the arm that snaked its way over her stomach and flung it off of her, resulting in a loud slap of skin where Root's hand roughly made contact with her face. Root groaned. "Ow."

"When did you get back?"

"What time is it now?" Root murmured.

Shaw looked over at her bedside clock. "It's almost 5."

Yawning, Root shuffled closer to Shaw and rested her cheek on Shaw's pillow, her chin lightly brushing against the shorter woman's shoulder, her left arm finding its way under the shared pillow and her right arm to Shaw's side, itching to snake its way over Shaw's abdomen but staying put in the small space between them.

Yawning loudly, Root cleared her throat and groggily relayed the course of events that took place during her solo stakeout.

"I got back two hours ago. Romero went home after work and went to sleep. I cloned his phone and kept an eye on his texts and calls, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He fell asleep talking to his sister on the phone and all I'd heard for two hours was his snoring. Nunez lives with Romero and two other roommates. They played video games until 3 AM and then passed out."

"Martino never came home," Shaw informed her.

"The big lug must have been unbearable," Root said knowingly.

Even with her eyes closed, Shaw could sense Root's smirk. Root had once overheard John's 'married' jokes during a prior stakeout and she had been practically glowing when Shaw came home that night. Root wasn't glowing because Shaw admitted that they were something, she was glowing because Shaw made no attempt to deny it. Root unofficially moved in with Shaw a few weeks later and that was that.

"Yup," came Shaw's simple response.

Soft lips pressed against her bare shoulder and Shaw's eyes opened just as Root pulled away and rolled over to her side of the bed. Suddenly, the air shifted and Shaw could sense Root's caution. Unsure of what made the woman so cautious, she waited.

"About earlier, with Harold knowing about our...situation," Root began. Shaw gazed up at the ceiling as she listened. Her agonizingly long stakeout with John had made her forget all about what Root had told her at the diner. "He figured out things long before anyone else did, maybe even before I did. And since our last mission, he began putting the pieces together."

They both knew what _'things'_ meant, yet they still weren't calling it by its name.

"I never outright told him about these things, but I never denied it either. Sameen, we're just too obvious."

Much to her own surprise, Shaw laughed.

Shaw turned her head to look at Root - whose eyes shined in earnest, even in the dark bedroom - and suppressed a small smile.

"You're not wrong," Shaw admitted.

And, like that, the issue was settled and the tension in the air evaporated.

"Get some sleep," came Root's muffled voice as she pressed her face into her pillow. "We have a long day ahead of us."

* * *

It was a long day indeed.

" _He's getting away, Lionel!"_

" _Fusco, where's our perp?"_

" _He's heading into the science building! I'm going after him."_

" _How's Martino holding up, Shaw?"_

" _He's in shock, but he's okay. It's just a scratch."_

" _Ouch!"_

" _Don't be such a baby. Keep pressure on your arm."_

" _Who even are you?"_

" _I've got our perp. Found the little shit hiding in the chemistry lab."_

" _Good work, Lionel. I'm coming your way."_

Shaw sat beside their number on a bench outside of a unisex bathroom, while the number in question kept pressure on his bloody shoulder wound with a wad of paper towels. The perpetrator, Nicholas Dice, Martino's art history T.A. and closeted ex-boyfriend, came after Martino in the middle of an empty cafeteria wielding a kitchen knife. He'd managed to achieve one slash against Martino's arm before Fusco busted into the cafeteria and scared him away. Root, Shaw and Reese, who had been surveying various areas of the campus, came running when Lionel called for backup.

Root kept an eye on Martino's boyfriend, Douglas Romero and his roommate Mason Nunez, who were seated at a picnic table near the science building where Dice's chase was in full view. Through Root's comm, Shaw could hear Romero and Nunez's conversation.

" _Yo, was that Dice?"_ Romero could be heard saying.

" _I think it was. Are those cops chasing him? What do you think he did?"_ Nunez asked.

Shaw looked at the injured man in front of her and gestured to his arm, motioning for him to keep pressure on it.

"So, ex-boyfriend, huh?" Shaw said.

Romero sighed. "We broke up months ago and we haven't talked since, not even so much as a text or an email. The fact that he would come after me like this is a surprise. I mean, the dude tried to make a kebab out of me in broad daylight. "

Shaw nodded. "Yeah, that's pretty fucked up."

Romero chuckled and then winced at the pain. He removed the paper towels he had pressed to his shoulder and looked at the long slash left by the knife. Shaw moved closer to him to examine the cut. The wound wasn't deep enough for stitches and would heal on its own in a few days, which was information she relayed to him.

"Thanks. But also, you never answered my question...who are you? How did you know I was in trouble?"

Shaw stood up and said, "Don't worry about it. I think you're in the clear now, but if I were you, I'd take the rest of the day off and head home."

Giving up on getting an answer to his question, Martino silently nodded and looked back at his cut, which had finally stopped bleeding.

"Wash up and then go straight home."

"Well, thanks, for helping me out," Martino thanked her.

Shaw nodded and watched as Martino rose from his spot on the bench and made his way into the bathroom.

" _That sounded oddly maternal,"_ came Root's amused voice through the communication line Shaw forgot to turn off.

" _If you two have kids, does that make me the godfather, the uncle or both?"_ John piped in.

" _As if anyone would seriously allow fruity pebbles and the terminator to have custody of a child,"_ came Fusco's response. _"...But if that does happen, can I be the god uncle?"_

Shaw turned off her comm. and shook her head in exasperation at the turn of events. Slowly, she walked through the school campus and observed the students and faculty around her, watching as they normally went about their day, unaware of the attempted murder they'd just prevented. The campus was still and silent, but that stillness was soon interrupted by the sound of police sirens in the distance.

Shaw followed the sound of sirens and soon found herself approaching the science building. Two police officers walked out of the building with Nicholas Dice in handcuffs and a few feet away from the action sat Root, who had been watching the scene from an umbrella covered picnic table, sipping on a smoothie.

As if she could sense her presence, Root looked up and caught her eyes, a smirk upturning her lips. Shaw narrowed her eyes at the smug woman and walked over to the table, dropping into the seat across from her.

"Hey, wifey," Root drawled sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Shaw.

Shaw narrowed her eyes further. Root's smirk only deepened at the sight and she offered her smoothie to the glowering woman.

"Thirsty?"

" _The perp has been apprehended and the situation has been settled. Miss Shaw and Miss Groves, you are free to take the rest of the day off. You as well, Mr. Reese. Good work today."_

"Hear that, Sameen? Free time. It's after 11, so how about a lunch date?" Root suggested.

The loud rumbling of Shaw's stomach answered for her, eliciting a chuckle from Root, who immediately stood up from her seat and nodded her head toward the parking lot.

"Come on, wifey, let's get you fed."

* * *

"Can we get an extra order of mashed potatoes and an extra steak to go?" Root asked the waiter.

"Sure thing."

Shaw focused on the food in front of her, ignoring the fluttering feeling in her gut. Little things like that made Shaw aware of how attentive and considerate Root truly was and it never failed to make her slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't uncomfortable because Root ordered for her, it was uncomfortable because the act of ordering for each other displayed a level of intimacy and closeness that Shaw wasn't used to. It made Shaw think.

They talked to each other, they opened up to each other, they lived together, they did laundry together, they cooked together, they did almost everything together. Root knew her almost as well as she knew herself and it wasn't just with Shaw's food preferences, but with Shaw's...everything. It was truly disconcerting, to say the least, but Shaw was tired of running from it.

She needed to address it.

She needed to call it by its name.

"Root," Shaw called, placing her fork down and focusing her attention solely on the woman sitting across from her.

Root must have sensed her hesitance and placed her own utensils down, giving Shaw her undivided attention.

"Is something wrong?"

"We're in a relationship."

Quick, simple and to the point.

Root blinked at her, one time, two times, then three. She stayed silent for a few moments and then...the biggest fucking grin Shaw had ever seen appeared on her face.

With a triumphant smile, Root uttered the words that Shaw had not expected to hear.

"I knew ordering that extra steak would finally get you to admit it."

Stunned, Shaw opened her mouth to refute Root's claim, only to be silenced by a wave of her hand.

"Your heart lives in your stomach, Sameen, and I happen to know your heart very well," Root said smugly. Before Shaw could attempt to retort once more, Root called over their waiter. "Can I order a rack of ribs to go as well?"

"Sure, no problem, I'll go ring in the order," he told them.

Once he was gone, Root smirked and whispered low enough for only Shaw to hear, "I know how much my _girlfriend_ loves to eat."


End file.
